


Colds/Broken Bones

by RainbowArches



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Injury, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5798260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowArches/pseuds/RainbowArches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One is sick and one is injured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colds/Broken Bones

“‘I don’t get sick’ said the invulnerable super-agent. Sound familiar?“

Melinda poked her head out of the covers to glare at Andrew and then sniffed pathetically.

“Induced colds by villains don’t count,” she grumbled, and then sneezed.

Andrew replaced his amused expression with a sympathetic one. He carried his trey to the bed and set it on the floor so he could help Melinda into a sitting position.

“I made lunch.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yes you are. Look.” He picked up the trey and placed it over her lap. “Soup, oranges, water, tea, Advil, cough drops, and tissues. Only thing missing is a pot and you won’t have to get up for anything.”

Melinda rolled her eyes, even though it made her head hurt. “You’re disgusting,” she said over his laughter. She dabbed at her nose with her bundle of tissues. Just the smell of the soup was clearing her sinuses. Andrew nudged the spoon into her hand.

“You have to eat. Come on. Don’t think I won’t spoon feed you.”

That wasn’t the worst idea Melinda had ever heard but she wasn’t going to let him enjoy this too much. The soup was good; lots of chicken and vegetables in a strong broth. She could feel her immune system kicking into gear. She finished it, managed half an orange and downed the glass of water before Andrew was satisfied. He took the trey off her, leaving the tea on the bedside table.

She slid back under the covers. She was uncomfortably warm, but it was better than the chills a few hours ago, and Andrew’s hand on her forehead was nice and cool.

“Feel any better now?”

“Mm-hm,” she mumbled sleepily. “Thank you.”

 

“Isn’t it normally the other way around?”

Melinda was well enough to go to work, but Andrew had broken his arm and had been sent home for the day.

“Yes, but my right hand is out of commission so everything goes on the left now.” Andrew was a pretty good patient for the most part but Melinda could see that the unexpected switch to the left hand was already starting to frustrate him.

“I meant, normally your patients try to kill me and you catch their colds.” She took the container from him, opened it, and placed one of the painkillers in his hand.

“I don’t miss the colds. Can’t say I’m enjoying this.”

“It won’t be forever,” Melinda reminded him, pouring him a glass of water even though he could do that much himself. “In the meantime, I think I’m the only one who hasn’t signed your cast yet.”

While Andrew passed out on the couch, Melinda covered all the leftover space on Andrew’s cast with intricate hearts and flowers and embarrassing soupy messages that she knew their colleagues would read out loud. Obviously she didn’t like that Andrew was injured, but she enjoyed dishing out payback for all the mushy crap he’d written on her casts the times she’d been injured. Plus she got to show off what a much better artist she was than him.


End file.
